Six Little Indian Boys
by FictionallyLost
Summary: A quick, morbid little one-shot based off a creepy old nursery rhyme. (rated T for violence, character death, and my paranoia)


**[A quick, morbid little one-shot for the anime Future Diary, based off a creepy old nursery rhyme. Fun, right? ]**

 **[ warning: I feel like I messed up all the characters, so read at your own risk, I guess ]**

 _Six little Indian boys playing with a hive;_

 _A bumblebee stung one and then there were five._

Ninth swallowed back a giggle. Is this what Madness felt like?

It wasn't that bad, once one got past the dizzying spinning, the swirling colors, and whispering Voices. The Voices were her favorite part, actually. They had such brilliant ideas.

Like slaughtering ( _hee, slaughter, laughter. she giggled again_ ) Four, and almost making that school into a burn mark on the ground. If only she had time to finish what she started.

She sighed, but, even with all the fun, the Voices told her that her time was coming soon ( _and one does not simply ignore the Voices_ ), and her Diary confirmed it. But no matter. She would just go out with a bang. A huge one. That would, with any luck, bring the city down.

If she couldn't be God, then no one could.

She giggled again, and turned her head towards the computer the Voices taught her how to create.

( _the Voices were so smart and helpful, for they'd told her how to make the biggest bang._ )

Time to light it up.

Her smile widened and she let out her loudest laugh yet, more like a cackle, really, before humming an ancient song sung by those making the Ultimate Sacrifice.

And, in a way, she was.

A Sacrifice to herself. A Sacrifice to keep _them_ from becoming God.

Only she could be God. No one else.

She would make sure of that.

Still humming, Ninth seated herself on the chair next to the computers. Without a even moment of hesitation, she pressed the button.

The explosion was magnificent.

 _Five little Indian boys going in for Law;_

 _One got in for hunting boar and then there were four._

The Orphanage Director sniffed. This is what Fate did, she supposed.

She had never wanted fame or glory, no, the Orphanage was perfect for her. She loved her little pumpkins, treating them like her own, but, as always, Fate had other ideas.

She so planned.

She made certain they were all safe, tucked away in little hidey-holes all throughout the building. She had told them it was a game, and not to come out. Not for anything.

Hopefully they actually listen.

She could only pray.

They were coming for her. She had ticked them off. On accident, of course, but Diary Holders weren't exactly known for their level-heads.

But no matter. Her time was done on this Earth. One does not work against Fate. The Director moved her rocking chair so it faced the door. She would like to know who would kill her, at least.

Digging out a pair of needles and string, she started to knit.

She didn't know what she was making.

( _a car turned into the driveway._ )

A hat?

( _raised voices sounded._ )

Maybe gloves?

( _footsteps on the porch_. )

Or a scarf?

( _a pounding on her door._ )

Ooh, a new pair of mittens would be nice.

( _the door flung open_. )

Or, perhaps, something to hang on her grave.

( _she smiled up at the face of her killer._ )

 _Four little Indian boys went out to sea;_

 _A Red Herring swallowed one, and then they were three._

Hinata jerked awake from her nightmare, only to wake up to something so much worse.

It's a cruel world to wake from a terror filled night only to find no relief in waking. But it was an old friend, Terror was, thriving in the darkest parts of her mind, feeding off fear.

Terror whispered to her at night, saying, shouting.

 _( you can't hide from Terror. )_

 _( Terror can kill. )_

 _( three is all it takes. )_

 _The others will stop at nothing to kill you._ [ Terror whispered. ] It was true.

( _strike one._ )

 _Your arm was mauled and torn by wild dogs._ [ it sang. ] Her arm twitched.

( _strike two_. )

 _Terror doesn't stop. Always whispering, always speaking. One more is all it takes._ [ now It was gloating. ]

Hinata moved carefully, not willing to risk any loud noises, lest it startle her.

Creeping, following, stalking.

Terror is coming.

She couldn't take the stalking, it was like It was the predator and she the prey. Needing to take her mind off the inevitable end, she pulled up her Diary, and her eyes whipped around the screen, looking for something, any information at all.

Oh. And she got it, alright.

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in a silent scream. As she fell, the screen tilted towards the ceiling.

 **DEAD END.**

( _strike three_. )

 _Three little Indian boys walking in the zoo;_

 _A bear hugged one and then they were two._

Akise never thought he would wish for Death.

He always thought he was too smart, too fast, too strong for it. He thought he would die of old age, perhaps even becoming God.

Ha. What irony.

He pleaded for Death, now. Anything to escape her horrible sister. ( _Pain, she was called._ )

Death and Pain.

Pain and Death.

You might say they walk hand in hand, on a mission to turn the world cruel and nasty.

But that's not the case. Death is sweet. Death is an end to the suffering of a cruel world. Pain is sharp. Pain is the suffering that makes the world cruel.

Akise didn't understand how they were mistaken for each other at all.

Death wore a black cloak. Black for the dirt you would soon be one with again.

Pain wore bright red. Red for the color of blood.

He allowed a long, drawn out, rattling breath to escape his lips. The first sound he's made in hours.

His eyes fluttered closed.

Ah.

He could feel Pain leaving.

He was blank, empty.

Black for Death.

 _Two little Indian boys sitting in the sun;_

 _One frizzled up and then there was one._

Yukki didn't like Guilt.

She left a burning shame, a horrible, fiery, sensation building up in his gut.

It kept growing, changing.

He shuddered. Why was he guilty? Why was Guilt creeping up on his mind, attacking his weak points?

What did he do?

( _Yuno._ )

She'll go nuts without him. But she would get over it, right? Guilt reared her ugly head, bashing his heart and weakening his mind. Irrationally took over. No, no she won't. She'll become obsessed over him and his death. She'll destroy it all.

( _a part of him realized this wasn't an irrational thought at all_ )

He tried not to think of her, but Guilt wouldn't let him.

Your fault. Your fault.

Yourfault. Yourfault.

Thisisallyourfault.

OhdareyouleavemeIllgoinsaneYukkihowdareyoudie.

It was burning him, drowning him in the horrible feeling of messing up, of failing. He couldn't take it.

The burning grew. She, Guilt, was the scorching sun, and he, the burning rocks.

And what do rocks do best?

They crumble.

 _One little Indian boy left all alone. . ._

Yuno was alone. Alone yet the victor.

She was to become God.

 _. . . He went and hung himself. . ._

Deus said he wanted his game to be interesting.

 _. . . And then there were none._

And interesting it was.

 **Okay, so at first, I wanted each death to be really open-ended and undecided but if you really wanna know just comment and I'll totally list them out for you.**


End file.
